


all the time (to keep you off my mind)

by fanfictionandcats



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3083183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictionandcats/pseuds/fanfictionandcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The top half of Pedro’s body is leaned out the third floor window, sweatpants sagging on his hips, and when he turns his head Balthazar sees his eyes are red.</p><p>"Are you high?"</p><p>Pedro smiles that rogue, charming half-smile that Balthazar so embarrassingly cherishes. "Almost." He licks his lips, moving out of the window and carrying the tiny bowl and the lighter in his hands over to his bed, plopping down. He looks back up at his friend, still standing in the doorway. "Do you want some?"</p><p>(set right after Project for Hero and before Sigh Not So)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the time (to keep you off my mind)

**Author's Note:**

> short little thing i wrote because i watched the entire NMTD series in one day and became obsessed with these two losers. works within canon, so not exactly AU but some could see it that way.
> 
> the title is based on "habits" by tove lo

When Balthazar knocks on the door, it’s Pedro’s dad who finally answers. He barely says anything just half-smiles and side steps away so that Balthazar can enter. There aren’t any lights on in the house, but Mr. Donaldson just shuffles into the kitchen to retrieve his glass of something as Balthazar ascends the steps.

 

The top half of Pedro’s body is leaned out the third floor window, sweatpants sagging on his hips, and when he turns his head Balthazar sees his eyes are red.

 

"Are you high?"

 

Pedro smiles that rogue, charming half-smile that Balthazar so embarrassingly cherishes.

 

"Almost." He licks his lips, moving out of the window and carrying the tiny bowl and the lighter in his hands over to his bed, plopping down. He looks back up at his friend, still standing in the doorway. "Do you want some?"

 

Balthazar shakes his head. Maybe he should have called first. He'd been pissed at first, for Hero and the way Pedro could support Claudio doing that to her, but he apologized, and then John ran away and... well, now here he is. He shrugs off his jacket, and sits next to Pedro. They stay in silence for a while. The whole house is silent, actually, like it accidentally fell asleep with the rest of the family.

 

"Beatrice hates me. Hero hates me. Even Ben hates me. And I hate me. So that makes everyone." Pedro says, laughing humorlessly a bit at the end. It’s almost physically painful to Balthazar. He’s barely ever seen Pedro this down, and it scares him. Pedro is the one that gets the group together, makes sure everyone has a good time. Balthazar barely recognizes the person sitting next to him, now.  

 

"I don't hate you." Balthazar replies quietly.

 

Pedro turns and looks at him. It’s been maybe a year since he’s actually done that. It’s too intimate. They touch; pushing each other around or bumping shoulders, but they don’t look at each other for more than a few seconds. But now, Pedro’s looking at him, eyes full of loss and desperation and confusion, and maybe… maybe something else. For a second, Balthazar thinks Pedro’s eyes flick down to his lips. But as quickly as it happens, Pedro’s pulling back, leaning away to get his bowl from the table.

 

"Come on, smoke with me." Pedro cajoles, eyes now safely trained on the lighter and where it begins to burn the contents.

 

Balthazar clears his throat, and tries to clear his head too. “Don’t we have to do this outside? Won’t your room smell?”

 

Pedro shrugs.

 

“I don’t care.” He replies flatly.

 

He can’t say no. He can never say no when Pedro’s involved. Whether it’s a party invitation that he knows he’ll just spend hanging around in the corners or ditching Spanish when they have a sub to go get chips, he goes with it. Everything's always better, when Pedro’s around.

 

They sit horizontally on his bed, heads pressed against the wall with their feet dangling off the edge, messy words echoing in the darkened space around them. Balthazar has smoked before, a couple times. Pedro used to do it a lot more, before his schedule got so crazy. Now he just does it to celebrate. Or when he’s upset.

 

“John’s still gone.” Pedro mumbles as Balthazar’s mouth fills with smoke. “Mum’s been in bed all day. Dad went ‘round town again, but…”

 

“He’ll come home.” Balthazar says evenly. Pedro shakes his head, like he’s just tasted something awful, and Balthazar passes the bowl back to him.

 

“I’m not sure if I want him to.” He says, so quiet Balthazar’s not even sure if he heard him right. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to hear.

 

Balthazar wants to hug him, suddenly. Hold him in his arms, squeeze him and tell him it’s alright. Even though he doubts Pedro would fit very comfortably in his arms. But he won’t. Instead, he’ll take a hit, suppressing a cough, and stamp those feelings back down, like he always does.

 

The boys don’t talk again for a while, but it’s safe. Balthazar ignores the way Pedro smells, or how his hands look, or anything that isn’t strictly _bro-ppropriate_. They finish the nick, setting the empty bowl back on the table as the room starts to pulsate in Balthazar’s gaze, warmth spreading all over his body.

 

Pedro suddenly shifts, squirming down to lay his head on Balthazar’s lap. It’s about the worst thing that can happen, in Balthazar’s opinion, especially because of that just-barely-there tension in his abdomen and the way his jeans suddenly feel a little tight.

 

He looks up at him, fingers coming up to touch Balthazar’s jaw. Balthazar clenches, tries to tell himself that _no, this isn’t really happening_ but there’s something about the way the high clouds his mind. Now he’s thinking _maybe_.

 

“You’re high.” Pedro suddenly laughs.

 

He can’t help but nod. “Yeppers, I am.”

 

Pedro laughs again, beautifully, so hard he curls up and holds his stomach. “You just said ‘yeppers’”

 

“I know!” Balthazar exclaims. He's high off the weed and beaming about making Pedro laugh, this glimmer of his old self coming through. Before he can stop himself, his fingers comb through Pedro’s hair, the way he’s dreamed about a million times. “You’ve got such nice hair. Thick.”

 

Balthazar expects Pedro to roll his eyes, shove him away, but he only smiles. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Pedro’s biting at his lower lip. Balthazar wonders if he could do that to him, if they kissed. Pull away, teeth around his bottom lip, Balthazar’s body strong in Pedro’s hands. He wonders how Pedro's hands could touch him, if they'd be rough and punishing or sweet. Maybe both. 

 

Just as Balthazar can feel what’s happening, Pedro sits up, and they both stare down at Balthazar’s lap.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Balthazar apologizes, but his mouth isn’t working fast enough, so it comes out wonky and _shit_ , why the _hell_ is his dick picking _now_ betray him!?  

 

“Dude, it’s fine.” Pedro says softly, but won’t meet Balthazar’s eyes. Balthazar feels his face start to burn, and his stomach drops. _Fuck_. He ruins everything.

 

“It’s not - it’s not you, or anything, I was just… I don’t know. The… I had this… no, I… I wasn’t…”

 

Balthazar drops his head into his hands, trying to fight through the fog in his mind. The awful pause seems to go on forever, and Balthazar looks up mostly to make sure Pedro hasn’t left the room.

 

He hasn’t, he’s just sitting next to him. Staring at the ceiling, but like it hurts. Did Balthazar do that?

 

“Hey, I…” Balthazar starts again, but trails off.

 

Pedro’s eyes drop down onto Balthazar’s face, and they’re full of something that Balthazar knows and recognizes in his own. Pedro’s mouth opens, like he’s going to say something, but doesn’t.

 

His hand moves from it’s spot on the bed to Balthazar’s thigh, then up, until his palm rests against where he’s hard. Balthazar holds his breath, his head spinning, his entire body stock still. He _won’t_ move his hips against Pedro’s touch, no matter how good that could feel right now.

 

He can tell Pedro’s higher than he is and he has to stop things, has to move away because there’s no way Pedro can be aware of what he’s doing, even though he looks pretty dead set on the way his hand moves just the slightest bit, brushing back and forth against the zipper of Balthazar’s jeans. But he’s wanted this for so long, dreamed about it, wished for it. Pedro’s face is somehow so close to his and there’s no air in the room besides Pedro’s breath and Balthazar needs him so much he can’t help when his lips slot together with Pedro’s.

 

A groan breaks from Pedro’s throat that hits straight at Balthazar’s groin, and Balthazar finds himself on his back as Pedro hovers over him, deepening the kiss.

 

And Balthazar isn’t even sure if this can be called _a_ kiss, because it feels like thousands, the way Pedro’s lips move against his. One hand still between his legs, he brings the other one up to hold Balthazar’s jaw. Pedro kisses kind of like he lives, completely in the moment. Balthazar finds his fingers curling back into Pedro's hair, and _this actually happening_ and he’s not about to wake up in a pair of cum stained boxers and a heavy feeling of guilt. Pedro is solid and real on top of him, practically crushing him, but Balthazar doesn’t even care.

 

Their mouths break for a moment, and Balthazar gulps in air as Pedro closes his eyes, and something brushes against Balthazar’s leg and he realizes Pedro is hard too. Everything happened slow and fast at the same time but now reality seems to be warping it’s way back into the room, and before Balthazar can stop it Pedro is up away from him, heat of his hands gone.  

 

Balthazar pushes himself up onto his elbows, still spread out on Pedro's bed. 

 

“Sorry.” He automatically says, a self-conscious reflex, though he isn’t sorry for one moment of what just happened. Pedro’s back is still to him and he doesn’t say anything, and with every second Balthazar’s shoulders droop lower. 

 

Balthazar stands, pushing through the dizziness that sets in when he stands up. Already, he can tell that Pedro regrets it all. 

 

“You know what? I’m gonna go.” He whispers. Pedro stays staring at the poster on his wall, arms crossed, acting like he hasn’t hear a word Balthazar has said.

 

He doesn’t even move when Balthazar slams the door behind him, carefully moving down the Donaldson’s steps and out into the dark.

  


••••••••••••

  


Balthazar walks home that night with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His stupid boner takes forever to go away, which just makes him feel pathetic. Tears are hot as they roll down his cheeks. He gets home, eats half a bag of Cheetos, and falls asleep listening to his Sigh No More record. It reminds him of the song he just wrote, about Hero. Sort of.

 

He wakes up feeling awful, jumps in the shower and catches himself humming An Ode, that stupid song he wrote for him and it hurts all over again.

 

His laptop was already open to Ursula’s channel, and he notices a new video. It’s the one he recorded with Pedro standing behind the camera, with that stupid smirk on his face right after saying something like, “I hope the rest of the world is ready for this songwriting genius.”

 

He clicks on the video, cringes at the way it starts with him smiling at him. He scrolls down after a minute, eyes catching on the description.

 

_Another song by Balthazar. Genuine as always._

 

A lump grows in his throat as he stares at the screen. He closes the laptop and grabs his jacket, pulling on his shoes.  

 


End file.
